


Stitches

by itsharbour



Series: Stydia One-Shots [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1840801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsharbour/pseuds/itsharbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is hurt in a fight and Lydia patches him up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rated T for gore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches

“Stiles, you have got to stop doing this.” Lydia reprimanded him as she changed the dressing on the sizeable wounds on his chest. The idiot had gotten himself stabbed not once, but twice in a fight against an beta from a rival pack. “When are you going to realize that you don’t have super healing powers like Scott and stop getting stabbed?” She was exasperated. “I would really like a heads up.”

Stiles winced as she dabbed the wound on his stomach. “I realize that, but I have to help.” The beta from the other pack wasn’t that big and he had brought his knives with him to the fight. In the months that had passed, Stiles had started training with Chris Argent and, though he was good, he was in no way ready to take on a wolf alone.

“No, you don’t.” She snapped, putting fresh gauze over the stomach wound. Lydia didn’t want to admit that Stiles had gotten way more attractive since he had started training with Chris, but she couldn’t help but notice the contours of his abdominal muscles and how they moved when he breathed. There was a large scar in the middle of his abs from where the Nogitsune had cut his stomach open to release the flies of doom. Now there would be another scar cutting across his chest. “You have a significantly higher chance of dying from a stab wound than Scott.” She put on the final piece of tape on his stomach. “Now try sitting up. I need to get to your shoulder.”

Lydia held his arm to help him sit up and he winced as he moved to sit up, back facing her. “Is that good?” He asked.

She nodded, moving behind him and starting to clean out the blood from the scratch on his shoulder. “This one’s going to be a great scar.” She told him, nose scrunched.

“Malia’s going to love it.” He chuckled and quickly winced at the pain that shot up from his stomach. “She thinks the one on my stomach is super badass.”

Lydia laughed. “Did you tell her a swarm of evil flies came out of it?” She reached over to the table and picked up a set of forceps, using them to fish out a piece of claw that was stuck in the middle of the cut.

“Evil flies aren’t badass.” He informed her and she dropped the piece of claw into an aluminum tin. “Is that a piece of claw?” Stiles asked.

“Yup.” She smiled. “Are claws not ‘badass’?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice like grease from delivered pizza.

“Very funny. And it’s not that they’re not badass, they’re just gross.” After threading thread through a needle, Lydia started to stitch the wound together. Stiles didn’t wince when the needle went through his skin, even though there was nothing numbing the area. He had asked her not to use any. “I never got a chance to ask,” he began, wringing his hands in front of him. “Are you okay with me and Malia?”

She paused for a moment, needle about to pierce his skin for a second stitch, and then drew her hand back. “I like the both of you.”

Stiles shook his head slightly. “I mean with us.” He gestured to him and the empty air in front of him. “In the together sense.”

“Hold still.” Lydia told him, slapping his arm. “And yes, I’m fine with you and Malia. Happy, even.” She tied another stitch.

“Really?”

“Yes.” She picked up the cloth again and wiped over his wound and put peroxide on it. He hissed at the burning sensation on his shoulder. She put her hand on his good shoulder, as if to convince him that she was being honest. “You deserve to be happy, Stiles.”

His hand inched up to his shoulder and laid on top of hers. “Thanks, Lyds.”

She reached over to table and picked up some more gauze to cover his shoulder with, taking a deep breath before starting to dress his wound. Carefully dabbing the sponge of dressing on his newly stitched back, she wondered how long she would have to wait until he was hers. Because out of everything in the world that she wanted, happiness was the thing she wanted the most; and Stiles made her happy. But she had lost her chance. Thrown it out the window.

She let out her breath. It was her turn now to wait. “You’re always welcome, Stiles.”

 


End file.
